Big Time Illness
by Lil Miss Bea
Summary: His throat burned. His neck was stiff. His sides were flaring. His lungs felt overworked. His head throbbed. His stomach ached and bubbled. His nose was running. His eyes itched. His ears felt clogged. Needless to say, Logan felt like crap. Logan's sick!


**'Ello! So this is my first piece of fanfiction, like, ever. I know, I'm awesome to give up my FF-V-Card to the fandom of BTR. And I know the chapter title is weird~ I'm planning on making them all strange so that you don't really know what to expect :) I showed my friend the title and she asked if there was going to be stripping. Sorry, but, no! I wish that were true... -sigh- So, yeah, there's not much else to say... It looked longer on paper and my iPhone :/ It's about 3 pages on word, but it looks so much smaller on fanfiction... Oh well! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Big Time Sickness<strong>

**Chapter 1 - **Table Top

The first thing Logan Mitchell noticed when he woke up was that he shouldn't be awake. His internal clock told him it was around 2 or 3 AM. Looking over at his nightstand he saw the screen of the digital alarm clock blink thrice as 2:16 AM appeared.

Why was he up this early? He and the guys had scheduled practice from 8 AM to 8 PM; however, considering who their producer was, they didn't get back to apartment 2J until 10 o'clock. So he should have been tired enough to sleep through the night peacefully? But now that he was up, how was he supposed to get back to sleep?

Logan groaned in frustration. A split second later, he realized his mistake.

Logan felt the build up of the coughing fit before it actually let loose, giving him time to scurry as quietly as possible out of his and Kendall's shared room.

Although no one was around in the living room, Logan still held in his coughs as best as he could for fear of waking someone. His eyes were watering and his lungs were starting to feel compressed with the effort. Every so often his mouth would open with the force of a strong cough, spit coating the inside of his elbow (he'd been training to become a doctor since he was six; simple cold etiquette was as easy as counting to ten).

This went on for a few more seconds until Logan was finally able to compose himself enough to stand upright. He hadn't even noticed he had migrated to the kitchen counter and had been clutching it for support. His back and stomach were now starting to hurt from the strain of holding in his coughs.

He felt miserable. His head felt stuffed, his torso felt like it was on fire, yet his feet felt freezing cold. Looking down Logan realized he wasn't wearing any socks, but he distinctly remembered putting some on before leaving the apartment that morning.

_That's right, _he thought. _I had to take them off—and the rest of my clothes—when Carlos and James dumped those buckets of ice water on me!_

Logan sighed. While at the studio James had stolen Carlos's helmet and hid it. Although it was in a very obvious spot (in the potted plant by the studio door), Carlos had declared a full on prank war when after an hour he had still come up empty handed. At some point the two "morons," as Logan liked to put it, had each grabbed a bucket of iced water. Their goal was to drench the other, but poor Logan chose the wrong time to leave to use the restroom.

Logan had called Mrs. Knight to bring him other clothes to change into, but it was rush hour and traffic in L.A. was brutal. And it didn't help either that when they finally left the studio it was 40o F and pouring outside.

So today's events explained why Logan felt so bad.

Logan brought a hand to the back of his neck, wiping away sweat that was slowly running down his back. The room suddenly felt 40 degrees hotter then normal. He moved into the kitchen, making slow, shuffling steps and holding back coughs all the while. After grabbing a paper towel and running it under some cold water, the brunette layer it across the back of his neck, sighing at the cool relief.

His relief was short lived. It seemed as though his skin was so hot it had evaporated the cooling liquid from the paper towel. Or at least, that's what it felt like to the overheated boy.

Logan pondered over whether or not to take a cooling shower. He decided against it when his head started to throb; he had barely enough energy to think let alone shower.

Pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip to ease the burning in his throat (which seemed pointless, because the liquid seemed to cover every part of his esophagus except the specific area in pain), Logan made his way over to the kitchen table and sat down, placing the glass down (only after making sure there was a coaster underneath).

He looked down at the smooth wooden surface of the table, a strange idea popping up in his mind. Laying the right side of his face down, Logan let out another sigh of relief. The table was freezing. Perfect.

Every so often Logan would have to flip from one side of his face to the other, but it was worth it. Every time he was on his left side he would look at the clock that hung by the wall by the door.

2:46 AM.

2:51 AM.

3:12 AM.

3:20 AM.

3:36 AM.

Logan began to notice that his coughing fits weren't as bad when he didn't think about them. This sudden realization accompanied with the relief from the table was enough to finally make Logan fall asleep.

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><p><strong>Okay, so not a ton of action in this chapter. But it's good enough to get the story rolling, eh? <strong>

**I already have the next two chapters written up, and I have up to chapter 5 planned out sloppily on bits of napkins and paper towels. Organization isn't my biggest field of expertise :/**

**R&R!**


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